The Point
by The Faint Muse
Summary: "I mean, it doesn't matter if you're a hero or a villain, or if you're just a regular person. One day, we'll all die, and people will forget us. In a few decades from now people won't even remember your name, Slade, nor mine. So tell me, what's the point?"


Robin was running.

Rooftop to rooftop, he sprinted from one ledge to another, pushing himself to the limit. Just like one might read or write to calm their nerves, Robin was running. The destination was unknown to him, but that didn't deter him in the least. It was past midnight. Probably around 2 a.m. If he had to guess.

His lungs burned and his muscles ached with the intense physical exertion, but he felt none of it. All he heard was the beat of his own heart and the bitter chill of the winter air. It was as if his brain was detached from his body, and he pushed himself further and further and further.

Tonight was the night.

The night his parents had died.

Of course the Titans were still in the Tower, ignorant and sleeping, completely unaware of the importance of this night. Not that it was their fault, he never told them, so they were clueless. Which is just how he liked it. To tell them this would be unthinkable to Robin, so he kept this secret under tight security.

But as he laid in his beds able to sleep because he was thinking about his parents, he became restless. And so, he slipped out of the Tower and started running.

He ran until he nearly collapsed and sat down on the ledge of a building that overlooked the entire city. It was a humbling sight. Its sheer size always amazed him, no matter how long he stayed here. Millions of buildings and lights were around him. Even a few pedestrians—the same people he worked himself to the bone to protect—were walking around at this ungodly hour of the night.

Exactly ten years ago his parents died. Exactly ten years ago, they left their only child to fend for himself in this merciless world.

Robin wasn't a very emotional person most of the time. Bruce had taught him well to conceal his feelings, to never let the feelings show, but at this moment he couldn't stop a single tear from rolling down his cheek. He made no effort to remove it. To hell with concealing emotions. To hell with Bruce.

Bruce. Bruce Wayne.

The man who had made him who he was today. The man who taught him how to fight, taught him how to make the bad people pay for their evil deeds.

But now Bruce—like his parents—was part of the past.

Another tear made its way down his cheek.

"Isn't it a little late for you to be sightseeing, Robin?" A voice cut through the frigid air, and made Robin's veins run cold.

Jumping to his feet in an instant, the young teen whipped around to face the owner of te voice he knew so well. Slade. He put his hands up in a defensive stance. It had been several months since they had caught any word about the villain, and the sight of him set Robin on edge immediately.

"Slade. You should know better than to show your face here in Jump."

"But I do enjoy these chats we have, Robin, and without me, who would be here to make sure you don't slack off?"

"Cut the crap. I don't know what you're planning but—"

Slade put his hand up, showing that he meant no harm. "I'm not here to fight."

"Then what do you want?"

The man shrugged.

Robin resisted the urge punch Slade right then and there. His vague manner was aggravating to no end, but he was so tired. Tired of the constant fighting, tired of the seemingly endless battle of morales, tired of...everything. Robin looked directly into man's eye. "Go, Slade, for this one night, go. I won't follow you, I won't try and arrest you. Just leave." He couldn't fight him. Not tonight.

Instead of leaving, however, Slade stepped a bit closer.

"Have you been sleeping properly?" Questioned the older man. "You look even more tired than before, if that were possible."

"I don't see how any of that is your business."

"It is, in fact, my business. The moment it involved you, Robin, it became my business."

"Why?" Why did Slade care if he'd been sleeping? If he died exhaustion, it would a be a blessing to him. One less hero to try and foil his plans.

"Because you were my apprentice. And without you, who else would try and put me behind bars?"

When Robin was silent, Slade spoke again. "Tell me, why are you out here at such an early time?"

"Patrolling." Robin lied.

"Oh please, you patrol this area of the city at 11:30. Next time you try and lie, at least make it believable."

Both were quiet for a moment. Slade watched the boy before him, who was studying the ground beneath intensely. Of course he knew about the boy's past. He knew the significance of tonight, Slade was no fool, but he wouldn't say anything about it. If the boy wanted to tell him—which wasn't going to happen—he would gladly listen. Otherwise, the matter would not be brought up. Vital information such as that should be kept until desperate measures were needed.

The boy looked hallow, not filled with fire like he usually was. It was very uncharacteristic the boy wonder, and it was a curious sight to Slade. So often he had tried to break him, make him obey his will, but to no avail. But tonight, Robin was almost completely docile. The dried tear marks didn't go unnoticed.

"Answer me this, Slade," Demanded Robin quietly, still not looking at him. "What's the point?"

"The point?"

"Yes, the point. The point to life. I mean, it doesn't matter if you're a hero or a villain, or of you're just a regular person. One day, we'll all die, and people will forget us. In a few decades from now people won't even remember your name, Slade, nor mine. So tell me, what's the point?"

"I suppose that's THE question, isn't it? Robin, men have spent their entire lives pondering this question. And each and every one of them have came no closer to the answer."

"But there must be some point, right?"

The masked man shrugged again. "Maybe, maybe not. To me, it depends on the individual and their own perspective of life."

Robin was silent, thinking on this. "What's your perspective?"

"Mine? Mine is rather simple actually: take the power you deserve, and don't apologize for it."

Robin laughed mirthlessly. "Typical."

"You asked, I answered."

"Then...I guess ultimately my life and others doesn't mean anything."

Slade, daring as alway, strode over to the boy kneeling to eye-level with him. He grinned him firmly on each arm, a king sure he was paying attention. "Do not misunderstand me, Robin. It's true, I don't know what the meaning of life is, but don't ever think for a second that you're life is unimportant. Although I usually hold a very low regard for other people's life, your life IS extremely meaningful. You fearlessly defend an entire city. Without you, this city would already be in the hands of people like me."

Slade arose and started to leave.

"You know, my original offer still stands."

"What offer?"

"To join me. With my guidance, you could do so much more."

"Sorry, but no chance."

The older man nodded.

"Oh, and one more thing Slade. If I ever see you again, I won't hesitate to bring you down."

Slade grinned under his mask. "I expect nothing less, Robin."

And then the man was gone into the night, and Robin for the first time in exactly ten years, slept peacefully.

Author's Note: Hello, and yes, I realize this is short, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. It is currently 4:03 and I started this at 3:30, if that tells you anything. Don't forget to leave a review because I love hearing from you guys! Thanks!


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